


Flyboy

by sushifish



Series: Trigger Happy [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: BB-8 is a cockblock pass it on, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Smut, TROS-era ish, Vaginal Fingering, black one lives, enemies to lovers-ish, inappropriate use of an x-wing, little bit of a praise kink if you squint, poe dameron deserves good things, taking what I want from the sequels and leaving the rest, thigh riding, we love our himbo boi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28625079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sushifish/pseuds/sushifish
Summary: Poe Dameron is an arrogant, reckless pilot and you're growing increasingly tired of cleaning up his messes, thank you very much. It's not your fault he just so happened to make a mess of you, too.
Relationships: Poe Dameron & Original Female Character(s), Poe Dameron & Reader, Poe Dameron & You, Poe Dameron/Original Female Character(s), Poe Dameron/Reader, Poe Dameron/You
Series: Trigger Happy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097627
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	Flyboy

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place sometime between TLJ and TROS.
> 
> Black One lives because I said so. We're taking what we want from the sequels and leaving what does not spark joy.

Your heart pounded wildly against your chest, beating out an angry and erratic rhythm against your sternum. Your fingers curled ever tighter around the carbon wrench in your hand, death grip causing your nails to dig into your palms and leave a series of tiny crescents indented in their wake. A drop of sweat escaped your furrowed brow and you wiped it away roughly with the back of your hand before turning to face the infuriating man behind you.

“You want to tell me what the fuck happened here?” You snapped without bothering to hide your irritation. One hand flew out to gesture to the wreckage behind you. The X-Wing was pouring smoke and steam from somewhere near the back end. There was a gouge missing from the bottom of the left wing, scooped out as though someone had tried to hollow it out like a jogan fruit. Flames were blazing from Maker only knew where on the opposite side and two maintenance droids rushed to put them out.

Poe Dameron opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by BB-8 rolling out from behind his legs, whirring madly. The little round droid rolled to a stop in front of you, beeping like mad.

“Hey!” Poe cut across him, taking a step forward and pointing an accusing finger at the droid. “That’s not-“

BB-8 whirled his head around and gave the pilot what you imagined was supposed to be a withering stare. Poe moved back a step, hand falling to his side. He gave a non-committal shrug.

“Alright, maybe that is what happened.”

BB-8 gave another admonishing beep before turning back to you and looking up expectantly. You crouched down so you were closer to eye-level with him and gave his round head a gentle pat.

“That does sound very reckless,” you agreed with a soft smile. The little droid was so oddly cute that you couldn’t help but adore him. “Poe’s lucky he had you there to save his skin. That’s, what? The fourth time this rotation?”

BB-8 whirred emphatically, seemingly pleased with the praise. You stood and nodded in the direction of the makeshift maintenance bay.

“Why don’t you go see Rose and have her get you cleaned up? If you’re feeling up to it later, maybe you can come back and give me some light while I fix this girl up? I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night with this one.”

A series of rapid beeps left him, seeming to signal some form of excitement. He spun and rolled off in the direction you had pointed, but not before rolling over Poe’s foot in the process.

“Ow! Come on, BB-8!”

A few short, final beeps were the droid’s response. Poe scowled and shouted after him, “ _Don’t swear!_ ” He spun back around and shot you an accusing glare. “You’re corrupting my droid.”

“R2-D2 corrupted your droid,” you countered before turning back around to face the ship with a sigh. “Can’t you have _one_ mission where you bring her back in one piece?”

Poe came up beside you and you could see him shrug from the corner of your eye. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed sweetheart, but the First Order ain’t exactly keen on letting us take anything easily. And those big laser beams they like to shoot at us? Yeah, those tend to do some damage.”

You didn’t bother fighting the urge to roll your eyes at his patronization. “You’re so right, Dameron. All this time, I thought good pilots were supposed to avoid those. Guess that explains why you can’t seem to manage it.”

You drew on every ounce of willpower you possessed to keep a self-satisfied smirk off your face. White hot irritation rolled off of him in waves, your words succeeding in striking a very sensitive cord somewhere inside of him. It wasn’t true, of course; everyone knew Poe was the best pilot in the Resistance - easily one of the best in the galaxy, even. But he didn’t need to know you agreed with that.

The momentary rage seemed to leave him as quickly as it had come and Poe turned to face you with a smirk. “Why don’t you quit flirting and get to work? She needs to be ready to go tomorrow morning.

You swallowed down the groan that rose in your throat. You’d known this was going to be a late night but knowing the X-Wing needed to be ready in less than a day meant you probably wouldn’t be getting any sleep at all. Poe knew this, of course, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your dismay over it.

“That’s what does it for you then, Dameron?” You said instead. “Insults? You want a woman who can’t stand you?”

He met your eyes when you finally turned to face him. You fixed yourself with a look that was meant to be challenging but he matched it in kind. His dark eyes held yours for a moment too long before they flicked down and back up again. You crossed your arms over your chest to abate the odd and not entirely unpleasant churning in your stomach, telling yourself it was nothing more than the result of the intensity of his gaze. Anyone else would have elicited a similar response from you in that situation. Obviously. Right?

“I like a challenge,” he said simply.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Your eyes flicked across the grass and Poe followed your gaze to where it settled briefly on a group of three medical techs hunched together, probably strategizing who was going to treat which minor injuries that resulted from today’s mission. The woman in the middle seemed to sense eyes on her and looked up from her data pad, bright blue eyes lighting up when she saw Poe. Her full red lips curved into a smile and she gave him a little wave, drawing the attention of the other two techs. They broke out into a fit of giggles upon seeing where her attention had gone and you could see the woman in the middle blush furiously before dropping her head back down to her work. Her name was Tyrza and she was young and gorgeous, though a bit too obvious with her affections and entirely too trusting, apparently.

Poe turned back to you and shrugged again.

“She’s a nice girl.”

“Yes, she is,” you admonished. “Too nice for someone like you, though she’s obviously too lovestruck to see it.”

“Hey, I’m not leading her on if that’s what you’re thinking. She knows I’m not her boyfriend or something. She’s a sweet girl - cute, obviously - and we’ve had some fun. But she’s not my type.”

You fixed him with your most deadpan look. “Blonde and beautiful isn’t your type?”

“Fangirl isn’t my type,” he corrected with a roll of his eyes. “She doesn’t like Poe Dameron; she likes the best fighter pilot in the Resistance.”

You bit your tongue to keep yourself from admitting out loud that they were one in the same.

“I’m going to get started on this mess you’ve left me with,” you said instead, turning your back on him again and making your way to begin taking inventory of all the things you were going to need to repair on Poe’s ship before the sun rose. “Go get cleaned up, Dameron. You smell like sweat and shame.”

You heard him chuckle behind you and call out, “You like it!” before the soft squish of his boots against the grass signaled that he was, mercifully, leaving you to get started on cleaning up his mess yet again.

* * *

You frowned as sweat dripped down to sting your eyes for what seemed like the thousandth time that night. Wiping it away offered only fleeting relief, as it seemed that as soon as you did, more came trickling down in its place. You cursed the humid climate on Ajan Kloss under your breath. The planet was beautiful, you’d give it that - lush and green, teeming with flora and fauna and seemingly everything in between. But the humidity was unforgiving and the air could get so hot and thick that it seemed to cling to you like a second skin. Even at night when the air cooled to a slightly chilly degree, you’d find yourself dripping in sweat as you worked. You’d long ago unzipped the top of your mechanic’s jumpsuit, tying the sleeves around your waist in an attempt to give yourself some relief. Being stuck under the X-Wing for over an hour fixing the number of things Poe Dameron saw fit to damage didn’t exactly help much either.

You sighed to yourself as you reconnected a series of hoses from the ship’s underbelly. Rose had come by to help you earlier, thank the stars; she was likely the only thing saving you from having to spend all night working on this blasted thing. It wasn’t _Black One_ itself that you minded; Poe’s X-Wing could be a finicky thing but you’d long ago learned her little nuances and quirks - something you and BB-8 bonded over. Apparently flying her was no walk in the gardens either, according to the little BB unit. No, the problem wasn’t the troublesome ship - it was the troublesome pilot.

Poe Dameron was the single most arrogant man you’d ever met, of that you were absolutely certain. He walked around like he owned the entire planet, spoke to everyone however he damn well pleased no matter their rank or station - and you didn’t even want to get _started_ on that disastrous mutiny he’d staged against Admiral Holdo. The lavender-haired woman had called him - what was it? A trigger-happy flyboy? That was certainly the most accurate description you could think of. Poe had a knack for making spontaneous, outlandish decisions mid-flight. The fact that they had an annoying tendency to pay off made it all the more infuriating.

Poe flew his ship hard, too - a fact that meant you often spent many a late night just like this one stuck beneath or atop or inside the X-Wing, fixing any number of things that strained under the force of Poe’s flying. And it was, of course, always you who got stuck with the job. “I want the best girl for my best girl,” Poe had loudly declared with a wink Maker knew how long ago. The rest was all unfortunate history. Why Poe seemed so dead set on tormenting you was anyone’s guess but you’d silently vowed to return his attentions in kind. Thus far, you’d succeeded.

Your headlamp flickered weakly as you tightened the final bolt on the cover over the hoses you’d reconnected and you swore under your breath. You weren’t particularly far from the sleeping quarters and walking in the dark on what was essentially a deserted planet certainly wasn’t dangerous, but that didn’t mean you were keen to trip and stumble your way back to your cot - especially when you knew sleep was likely to evade you anyway.

You gave your wrench a final twist before tucking it into your jumpsuit pocket and sliding yourself out from under the ship. The sky had darkened hours ago and Ajan Kloss’ twin moons hung bright and beautiful up above. Their glow gave just enough illumination to compensate for your flickering headlamp and you thought you might not have to stumble your way back to the _Tantive IV_ after all. Nightfall brought with it a merciful drop in temperature and you were relieved to finally feel it now that you weren’t stuck under a ton of heat-trapping metal. You walked around the ship one final time to check for anything you may have missed. You could remember when Poe’s X-Wing had been a rich shade of obsidian, striped through with vibrant orange. The paint had since chipped and faded and now looked more battered and bruised than shiny and new - much like the Resistance itself.

Poe’s X-Wing almost always came back the most damaged of the fleet and, though you’d teased him about his flying skills earlier, you knew it wasn’t because he was a bad pilot. You’d heard plenty of Black Squadron pilots recount their tales of Poe’s heroics, how he was always the one to take the brunt of the First Order’s force if he could. He was often daring and reckless in his decisions, that much was true, but that wasn’t the whole story. Poe was a good leader and he cared for his pilots more than you would have expected. Everyone in the Resistance knew that Poe would gladly lay down his life for any one of them if he had to.

Satisfied with the exterior, you hoisted yourself up to double-check the cockpit. It was always your least favorite part. Something about being in the cockpit of a pilot’s ship if you weren’t actively fixing something made you feel like you were trespassing somewhere you didn’t belong, like you were nosing around in someone’s sleeping quarters when they weren’t around. You sat on the edge instead of climbing down into the seat and leaned over to check the opposite side. A shrill tell-tale clank of metal on metal hit your ears and you swore for what you were sure was at least the fortieth time that night. Peeking beneath the controls, you could see your wrench lying in the floorboard as if it were taunting you. You shifted so your right arm was free to reach down and try to grab the thing while your left hand gripped the side and bore the brunt of your weight. You were grateful no one was around to see you; you probably looked exceedingly awkward, with your legs hanging over the side of the cockpit and your upper body disappearing below. You reached out your arm as far as you could and felt your fingers brush against the handle of your wrench, just slightly out of reach.

“Need a hand?”

You squeaked in surprise and lost your grip, tumbling forward into the cockpit unceremoniously. You landed on your shoulder awkwardly, sending an angry protest through your nerves. There was a chuckle from the ground and you didn’t have to look to know who it came from. By the time you’d managed to twist yourself so you were facing the sky, he’d climbed up and was leaning toward you, elbows propped on the side.

“Rough night?”

You shot him a withering glare and tried not to dwell on the fact that you were flat on your back in the cockpit of Poe Dameron’s X-Wing, legs awkwardly thrown over the side next to him.

“I dropped my wrench,” you stated simply, fighting the blush that was threatening its way onto your cheeks. With as much grace as you could muster - which admittedly was _not_ much - you managed to shift yourself upward and draw your legs in so you could prop yourself on the side opposite Poe, the seat separating you.

“Could you…?“ You gestured to the floor. “I can’t reach it.”

Poe glanced down for a moment before hoisting himself up and over the edge, reaching down into the floorboards and plucking your wrench from the depths as though it were the easiest thing in the world. When he swung back up and righted himself, he brandished a grin and held the tool out to you.

“A gift, my lady,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes and plucked it from his hand. “Thank you, oh Resistance hero. Where would I have been without you?”

“Face down and ass up, apparently,” Poe remarked. “And not in the fun way.”

“Ha-ha,” you snarked back, despite the increased intensity of the burning in your cheeks. “Maybe you should’ve taken a holo then, to look back on while you’re out on those cold, lonely missions of yours.”

“As lovely as the view was sweetheart, a lady in distress is not my preferred means of entertainment. Why didn’t you just use your foot? Sit in the seat and slide it toward you? You’re plenty tall enough.”

Poe was regarding you with an inquisitive expression and it unnerved you in a way you wished it didn’t. As if on cue, your headlamp gave a final weak flicker and went dark. You frowned and pulled it off, chucking it toward your tool bag along with your wrench.

“I’m not a pilot,” you said simply.

“You gotta be a pilot to get your wrench?”

“ _No,_ Dameron. But you don’t- you don’t just sit in the cockpit if you’re not a pilot, unless you’re fixing something or… something.”

The words escaped you in more of a rush than you would have liked. You felt silly saying it out loud to him, like you thought the cockpit was some sacred space or something. You hurried to explain yourself better and hopefully salvage whatever remained of your dignity.

“It’s like sleeping in someone else’s bed or something. You just don’t do it.”

Poe regarded you for a moment wordlessly, his head tipping to the side in a way that made him look very much like an inquisitive lothcat. His gaze was unnerving and you felt wildly self-conscious for no discernible reason.

“You know how to fly though,” he declared after what felt like a small lifetime. It wasn’t a question but you felt compelled to answer anyway.

“Well yeah, I mean you can’t fix something if you don’t know how it works. But that doesn’t make me-“

“But you could fly this ship right now,” he insisted. “If you had to. Yes or no?”

“I mean, yeah, if I had to-“

“I don’t get the logic then. Which asshole told you that?”

Your cheeks burned anew, this time with the deep-seated embarrassment of a childhood mistake. It was strange, you realized, how some things could stick with you even decades later, playing out in your mind like a holovid, edges as sharp as they’d been then. You could still smell the liquor on your uncle’s breath as he yelled, furious at finding his tiny little niece behind the controls of his ragged old ship.

“No one,” you lied softy, hoping your voice wasn’t colored with the tell-tale shades of shame. “No one who matters.”

Poe seemed satisfied enough with your answer. “You’re damn right. A fat load of bantha shit, that is. Get in the seat.”

“What?” Your voice squeaked in surprise but you didn’t have time to pause and care. “No, you don’t need to- It’s not-“

“I don’t stutter, sweetheart. Get in the seat.”

“Poe, no. I’m sweaty and covered in grease and-“

“You’re perfect, sweetheart. Get in the seat.”

“No, I- Look, I get what you’re trying to prove here but I swear it’s really not that big of a deal and I- Oh!”

In a swift movement that only came with practiced ease, Poe swung himself over the side and into the seat, one arm shooting out to grab you about the waist and drag you down with him. You landed with a less than graceful _thump_ in his lap, twelve shades of crimson painted on your skin. Righting yourself, you turned your head toward him expecting to find a smug expression plastered across his face. You saw none.

“You’re in the cockpit,” he said simply, grinning.

The entire situation was ridiculous but you would have been lying if you said that look wasn’t contagious. The corner of your mouth tugged upward even though you knew your ears were still red-tipped with the embarrassment of how childish you felt. “I’m in the cockpit.”

“And you’re not fixing something.”

“And I’m not fixing something.”

“And you’re in my lap.”

“Shut up.”

Though, admittedly, you hadn’t failed to notice that Poe’s arm was still wrapped firmly around your waist. Nor had you failed to noticed that you didn’t particularly mind.

“Well, now that you’re here - Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Has your life been drastically changed? Planning on telling all the other mechs about this planet-shattering experience in the morning?”

You rolled your eyes and fought back the stupid, girlish giggle that rose in your throat. “It’s roomier than I would have expected.”

Poe nodded in mock thoughtfulness and waited for you to continue.

“The seat’s a bit less comfortable than I would have hoped.”

“That so?” He raised an eyebrow and pretended to ponder your statement. “It’s all good from where I’m sitting. I could fall asleep right now, even.”

You scoffed. “Oh yeah, that’s exactly what I need - gossip flying around the mech bay about how I spent the night in Poe Dameron’s X-Wing. Real professional.”

“Woah woah,” Poe feigned offense. “I didn’t say _you_ could sleep here. Besides, we both know you never sleep when you have to stay up this late for repairs anyway. But if you want someone to occupy your time, well, who would I be to deny you?”

He winked at you suggestively but you barely even registered the action.

“How do you know I can’t sleep when I work late?”

It was nearly impossible to tell in the darkness but you could have sworn you saw a tinge of pink creep its way across Poe’s cheeks. He swallowed hard but when he spoke, his voice was as self-assured as always.

“I pay attention.”

“To me?”

“ _Yes_ , to you. Is that so hard to believe?”

You blinked at him, lost for words. Of course it was hard to believe that Poe Dameron would pay any attention to you outside of your regular exchanges of taunts and jabs. He had no reason to; you didn’t consider yourself unattractive by any means but girls far prettier than you threw themselves at him left and right.

“Well, I mean… yeah,” you said lamely, wishing you’d just kept your mouth shut.

He sighed. “You’ve got all these preconceived notions floating around in your head about me, don’t you? Poe Dameron, Resistance hero and ladykiller, yeah? I bet you don’t even know why I came out here in the middle of the night.”

You raised an eyebrow. It was true; you didn’t.

“I came out here to see if you needed help. And you did, judging by the way I found you.”

You fixed him with your most incredulous look and he let out another long-suffering sigh, flexing his fingers around your hip as he did. You held your breath for a moment longer than necessary to suppress a shudder at the feeling.

“You see? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Why’s it so difficult for you to believe I might pay attention to you or try to do something nice, huh?”

Poe’s eyes locked onto yours, searching for an answer. Your heart beat frantically inside your chest, pounding out a rhythm so hard and fast that you were certain it would burst from your chest entirely. From where your arm was pressed into his chest, you were surprised to find that Poe’s was beating just as hard.

“Why would you?” You asked finally. “There are plenty of girls like Tyrza-“

Poe shook his head sharply. “I told you, I don’t want girls like Tyrza. I want you.”

You regarded him for a moment, searching his eyes for any indication that he was teasing you again. The night air of Ajan Kloss was pleasantly cool against your skin but you still found yourself unbearably warm.

“Why?”

You hated how small and disbelieving the question sounded when it left your lips. Poe’s thumb rubbed tiny circles against your hip, each one seeming to blaze straight through your jumpsuit and sear your skin. You were no longer surprised to find that you didn’t mind. His face seemed closer to yours than it was a moment ago, though whether it was you or him who had bridged the space, you couldn’t even begin to discern.

“You don’t take my shit, for one,” he smirked as he spoke, eyes flicking down to your lips for just a moment in a way that made your stomach flip. “You’re funny, even when you’re insulting me. You’re smarter than me by parsecs but you never make me feel stupid. You don’t back down from things that scare you and you stand your ground when you know you’re right. And you think I’m a shit pilot.”

You didn’t even bother trying to stop the laugh that escaped you. A touch of mirth danced in Poe’s eyes but his expression was sincere and it tugged at the tender threads of your heart in a way you never would have expected. It surprised you how genuine Poe’s words seemed. If anything, you would have thought he might pull out some generic answer just to try to get into your jumpsuit. But no, there was no faking that look on his face.

“I don’t think you’re a shit pilot,” you confessed softly. “I think you’re an amazing pilot; I just think you’re an arrogant dick about it, is all.”

The low rumble of a chuckle vibrated in his chest. “You’re not wrong. I could stand to hear you say it again, though.”

“Oh, insults really are your thing then?”

Poe gave your hip a squeeze in response and you wondered if he noticed the sharp little intake of breath it elicited from you.

“Come on, throw a guy a bone here. Tell me I’m a good pilot.”

He tilted his chin up toward you slightly, expectantly. You shifted just so to be able to face him better. When you replied, your voice was almost a whisper.

“I think you’re an amazing pilot, Poe. And I think you’re a good man.”

Now it was Poe’s turn to draw in a sharp breath at your words. You could feel him twitch and stiffen beneath you and wondered if it was from your words or what they implied. Regardless, it lit a fire somewhere deep inside of you. Poe’s eyes stayed locked onto yours, seemingly searching but for what, you couldn’t say. A silence passed between you two, thick and heavy with anticipation of what might happen next. You could practically hear the blood rushing through your veins. Poe leaned forward a fraction, too close to be considered proper or polite in any sense. When he spoke, his voice was low and heady.

“If I kiss you, are you gonna deck me?”

The corner of your mouth quirked upward and you snaked one hand around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the ends of his hair as your nails raked the skin. You could have sworn you felt him shudder.

“Guess we’ll see.”

You leaned forward to close the distance between you and found Poe’s lips halfway through, meeting yours with a softness you hadn’t expected. Your heart thrummed out a bellowing beat inside your chest as his mouth moved against yours, the flames in your stomach burning ever hotter. He kissed you with maddening patience, nipping gently at your lower lip but making no move to deepen the kiss. You shifted so you were straddling his thigh, one knee resting between his legs and the other somewhere near his hip, your chests pressed together in an attempt to sate the need to have him closer. His fingers flexed around your hips before sliding up your back, beneath your thin white undershirt so he could feel your skin under his palms. He stopped when he reached the band of your bra and held you there, as close to him as he seemed willing to allow for the time being.

You could feel his cock throb against the top of your thigh and it caused something in your core to twist and tighten in anticipation. Craving more contact, you ran your tongue along his lower lip in a wordless plea. Poe granted you entrance to his mouth and groaned when your tongues met. His hands trailed down over the curves of your ass, cupping your cheeks and giving them a squeeze. You let out a small gasp and he took the opportunity to catch your lower lip between his teeth, the sharp sting of it sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

Poe’s hands gripped your ass and he pulled you further down onto him, his thigh hitting directly between your legs where you wanted him most. You sighed his name and felt the corner of his mouth turn upward against your lips, somewhere between a smile and a smirk. His mouth trailed down the curve of your neck as his hands pressed you forward and then back again, urging you to rock against him. Nosing your head to tip backward, he pressed his lips against your pulse point and sucked hard. Your head swam at the sensation, stars floating around where your brain once was, lost to everything except Poe’s lips on your neck and the delicious friction between your legs. Your nipples were stiff peaks behind the thinness of your shirt and bra, brushing against the rough material of his shirt as you rode a steady rhythm on his thigh. You felt his teeth graze your skin before he stole it between them in a sharp bite and you gasped loudly in surprise.

“ _Poe_ ,” you hissed admonishingly. He drew back and blinked up at you as though just coming out of a daze.

“Hmm? Oh,” his eyes flicked down to your neck, the skin already reddening angrily where he’d bitten. “Yeah that’s gonna leave a mark, sweetheart.”

He drew his hand up and ran his thumb over the sensitive flesh, admiring his work. “Good. Maybe Beckett will stop staring at your ass so much if he knows you’re mine now.”

If you’d had any semblance of your wits about you, you would have rolled your eyes and reminded him that Clive Beckett was a fellow starfighter mechanic and a friend - nothing more. Instead, all your fuzzy mind could register was the implication of his words. The corner of your mouth curved upward.

“Bit possessive, don’t you think?”

Poe hummed in response as his mouth found your neck again, lips placing a series of open-mouthed kisses up the line of your throat. “You like it.”

He nipped at your earlobe and you shuddered at the contact, stomach twisting into an ever tighter knot that was nowhere near unpleasant. He was right, of course; hearing Poe call you his was fuel poured directly onto the flames that burned under your skin.

“I hate you,” you insisted instead, knowing neither of you believed it.

Poe smirked against your skin and moved his hands back to your hips. He pulled you down hard and you gasped at the rough contact of his thigh against you. Your jumpsuit felt entirely too thick all of a sudden; you ached for more contact, to feel a very different part of him between your legs. Judging by the way the aforementioned part throbbed against your thigh, you guessed he felt the same.

“Sure,” he murmured between lazy kisses along your jaw. “You hate me, sweetheart.”

He landed a final kiss before pulling back a fraction, just enough to be able to look at you properly. One hand rose to brush a strand of hair behind your ear as his eyes roamed your face. They flicked between your own for a moment, holding your gaze steady before dropping to your lips and then back up again. Searching, it felt like - though for what, you couldn’t say.

Poe leaned forward again and kissed you long and slow, the kind of kiss that made heat pool between your legs and stole the words off of your tongue. When he pulled away, it was only barely and you could feel the ghost of him there when he whispered, “Can I touch you?”

Your heart beat impossibly quicker, every nerve in your body seeming to fire off at once. You ground harder against his thigh at the prospect, “Yes,” you answered without a second thought, no other words even forming in your head besides, “ _Please._ ”

Poe made a noise that sounded very near to a growl - deep and guttural, almost feral in nature. It made you shudder in the best possible way.

“That’s what I want to hear. Turn around.”

Your stomach flipped over on itself at the thrill Poe’s words elicited in you. A bit awkwardly, you shifted around so you were facing the front of the ship with your back to him. His hands tugged at the arms of your jumpsuit still knotted around your waist and you let him untie them, bending forward to steady yourself against the console. Your jumpsuit fell to the ground in a heap and you could feel Poe’s hands on your ass again, kneading the flesh in his palms. He groaned appreciatively as he slid his thumbs under the edges covering your cheeks, pulling away and letting them pop back with a soft _snap_. You squeaked in surprise and heard him chuckle before his fingers dipped inside the waistband. He pulled the fabric down your legs with tantalizing slowness and you had to swallow hard to stifle the moan that rose in your throat at such a simple action. You expected Poe to be hasty in his ministrations, focused on taking what he wanted from you without bothering to spend the time making sure you felt good too. But the way he kissed you, the way he touched you… it was like he was _savoring_ you, like he never wanted it to end. You were beginning to think you’d misjudged him in more ways than one.

The sharp sting of teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your cheek pulled you from your thoughts with a shriek. Shooting a glare over your shoulder, you found Poe grinning at you entirely unashamed.

“Sorry,” he lied with a shrug. “Couldn’t help it.”

You opened your mouth to respond but he cut you off by wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging you back down into his lap.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, lips brushing your ear as his hands slid down to your knees. He pried your legs apart gently and trailed his fingers up the inside of your thighs, stopping dangerously close to where you wanted him the most. You shifted against him and he groaned, both of you relishing the feel of his hard cock against your ass. He was still fully clothed beneath you, something you loathed more than words could possibly express. The fact that so few layers were separating you was absolutely maddening. There was nothing in the galaxy you wanted more than for him to take himself in hand and guide his tip to your entrance, pressing into you with that same torturous slowness until - _oh,_ Maker.

You moaned at the thought and felt the sound travel straight to where he was pressed up against you, hot and throbbing and probably aching just as badly as you were. His fingers inched the tiniest bit closer to where you were practically dripping with need and his thumbs traced gentle circles on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to have you here, in my lap all ready and willing? Do you know how many times I’ve thought of having you right here just like this?”

You outright whimpered at his words, not bothering to care how desperate you sounded. One of Poe’s hands slid its way upward beneath your tank top, across the flat plane of your stomach to find the swell of your breast. You arched into his touch with a moan, desperately wishing you’d had the foresight to skip wearing a bra that day.

“You feel so fucking good,” Poe murmured against your neck as he brushed your nipple with his thumb. “Everything about you is fucking perfect.”

“ _Poe,_ ” you pleaded. “ _Please._ ”

He groaned and bucked his hips against you, drawing your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and making you moan yet again. At the apex of your thighs, you clenched around nothing.

“You sound so pretty when you beg, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”

You swallowed hard to down the lump in your throat. Your mind felt thick and hazy, goosebumps breaking out over your skin despite feeling like your body was on fire. Words evaded you.

Poe nudged you gently with his nose. “Please,” he whispered against your skin. His cock pulsed and throbbed against you as though it were asking too. “Tell me.”

You drew in a shaky inhale. “Touch me,” you breathed. “ _Please_ Poe, touch me.”

That feral growl left him again and you found yourself overcome with the desire to hear it rumbling in your ear with his cock buried inside you. You rolled your hips back against his hardened length, a wordless plea to punctuate your words. Poe responded by giving you exactly what you wanted. Slowly - _painfully_ slowly - he traced a finger along your slit, moaning long and low as he did.

“So wet,” he murmured in your ear as he gave your nipple another gentle tug. “ _Fuck._ Is this all for me, sweetheart?”

You nodded wordlessly, your tongue having become a ten ton weight inside your mouth. Poe’s finger was moving in little circles at your opening, working your lower lips apart at an abominably slow pace. There was a gentle pressure at your entrance and you bit your lip hard to stop from crying out as he pressed his finger into you. Poe groaned and swore behind you and you relished the feel of taking him into you, bit by bit.

“So _fucking_ tight,” he growled through his teeth. “You’re going to feel perfect on my cock, sweetheart. So fucking perfect.”

He slipped his finger out to the knuckle before pressing back in and this time you didn’t bother trying to swallow down your whimper.

“Is that what you want?” His teeth found your shoulder and sank into the smooth curve of skin. “You want my cock inside you?”

You tried to grind out a _yes_ through your teeth but were pretty sure what came out was nothing more than desperate whining. He seemed to understand the intent either way.

“You do.”

Poe added a second finger and you arched into his hand, craving more. You wanted him to fill you up, to stretch you to the point of breaking until you couldn’t take anymore.

“I want it too, sweetheart. Believe me, I do. I want to bend you over that control panel and fuck you until this entire camp hears you screaming my name. I want every single member of the Resistance to know whose cock made you cum like you never have before.”

Poe’s fingers were working you quicker now, his thumb tracing circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves above your opening. His name tumbled from your lips like a prayer, something both sacred and salacious, beyond anything you’d ever conjured up in your mind. Your head tipped back to rest against his shoulder and your eyelids fluttered closed of their own accord. You could hear his voice in your ear, urging you ever closer to the edge of a rapidly approaching cliff. The knot in your stomach wound impossibly tighter, straining painfully close the point of breaking. Maker, you were so, _so_ close-

A blindingly bright light caused your eyes to shoot open in an instant. Your heart and stomach lurched sickeningly, so sudden that it made you almost nauseated. Poe’s hands flew to the outsides of your thighs as he snapped your legs closed before you even had a chance to register what was happening. A series of whirrs and beeps floated up to your ears.

“You’re a little late with that light there, buddy,” you heard Poe call down over the edge of the ship.

When you dared to peek toward the ground yourself, you saw BB-8 rolling ever so slightly back and forth, a bright white spotlight shining up toward you two from one of his metal arms. You heaved a sigh of relief at knowing it was just Poe’s little droid, though there was no denying the visceral ache that was still throbbing mercilessly away at your core.

“No, ship’s all patched up,” Poe shouted down to the astromech as you reached down to the floorboards and felt around for your underwear and jumpsuit. “You mind shining that thing somewhere other than our eyes so we can climb down?”

BB-8 whirred in response and rolled around the back of the X-wing, seemingly to do his own once over of the exterior. Poe sighed behind you and wrapped his arm around your waist again, pulling you back to him. He brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, a deliciously lewd act that did absolutely nothing to quell the raging inferno inside of you.

“This I really will make up to you,” he promised with a kiss to your shoulder.

The stupid, girlish giggle escaped you without resistance. “You can make it up to me by helping me find my underwear.”

You heard him chuckle and turned to regard him over your shoulder.

“Oh, these?” He held the scrap of thin black fabric between his fingers like he was brandishing a medal of honor. “Nah, I think I’ll be keeping these.”

“Poe-“ you started to warn but he cut you off by pressing his lips to yours a final time.

“When I get back from this mission, the first thing I’m gonna do is find you and kiss you so hard you can’t think straight.”

Your lips curved upward in spite of yourself and Poe pressed another kiss to the side of your neck, lingering just a moment longer by your ear. “And then I’m going to make you scream.”

He punctuated his promise with a nip to your skin before he let you reach down and tug your jumpsuit back up over your hips. Standing on wobbly legs with knees you absolutely did not trust at that point in time, you tied the arms around your waist and climbed out of the cockpit and away from Poe, shoving your discarded wrench and headlamp into your tool bag before snatching it up in your hand. BB-8 rolled past and beeped a quick little series at you and you bid him goodnight, promising that you weren’t upset at his lack of assistance in repairing _Black One_. You turned to make your way back toward the sleeping quarters when Poe’s voice caused you to glance back over your shoulder.

“Hey!”

He was leaning half out of the cockpit, his chin resting on his folded arms and a grin spread wide over his face.

“You can sit in my cockpit any time.”

He winked at you and you couldn’t help but laugh, throwing your middle finger up at him as you turned and walked away. The ghost of a grin still lingered on your face as you watched the sun creep up over the horizon, cheeks tinged faintly pink and the taste of Poe Dameron still on your tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! <3


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